


dark was the night, cold was the ground

by reindeerjumper



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, MFMM Year of Tropes, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Sickfic, Trope Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 21:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: Jack Robinson doesnotget sick.





	dark was the night, cold was the ground

**Author's Note:**

> all i ever want is a sick, petulant, stubborn jack being coaxed into cuddles by phryne. luckily @firesign23's trope amnesty for december allowed me to write just that!

Jack Robinson was a handsome man. His chiseled features, the clear brightness of his eyes, his strong profile, the thick head of hair that he was blessed with...they all made for quite the picture. Phryne knew his face well, from nights spent millimeters away from it as she gently pressed her lips to his brow, and his nose, and his chin while whispering sweet nothings to him. 

The Jack in front of her now, though, didn’t look so wonderful. 

Phryne had been sitting at the small scrubbed table in Wardlow’s kitchen, idly sipping a cup of tea and flipping through a book of poetry when the back door had flung open with a gust of cold wind. It had been much colder than normal in Melbourne, and the entirety of the city was dusted in a sweet layer of snow. The wind had taken Phryne’s breath away as she looked at the doorway.

Jack stood at the threshold, bundled up to his eyeballs and snuffling. He stamped his boots off outside of the kitchen before crossing over into the warmth of the room. Phryne watched the tension in his body physically deflate as the cold from outside melted off of him. He coughed wetly into his scarf before unbuttoning his overcoat and removing it. 

“Hello, darling,” Phryne said softly, standing up to cross the room to him. “Everything alright?”

Jack peered at her from over his scarf, shaking the snow off of his coat before hanging it up on the hook by the door. He nodded as he unwrapped the scarf around his neck. 

“Everything’s fine,” he said. Phryne noted the congested tone of his voice, the slight increase of gravel rolling around his vowels. He hung the scarf over the overcoat before turning towards her and smiling tiredly. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. Jack brought his hands up to his mouth and blew into them, rubbing them together before blowing into them again. He smiled at her again and placed a hand on her hip before dipping down to kiss her on the forehead.

Phryne watched as he crossed the kitchen to where the kettle was still sitting. He busied himself with perusing the cupboards, occasionally coughing into his shoulder as he did so. While he poured himself a steaming mug of tea, Phryne noted the uncharacteristic slump of his shoulders. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Phryne asked, coming up behind him to loop her arms around his waist. Phryne felt his hands, which were cold as ice, come up and cover hers before giving them a squeeze.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly. “It’ just cold out. Shall we have our tea in the sitting room?”

“If that’s what you’d like,” she responded, turning from him to grab her mug. “I’ll meet you in there.” 

Jack turned towards her and gave her another tired smile, cupping the mug in one of his massive hands and shoving the other in his pants pocket. He nodded and then headed out of the kitchen. Phryne leaned back to catch another glimpse of him and was met with yet another wet, body-racking cough from Jack. She grimaced on his behalf before scooping her own mug of tea up and following him into the sitting room.

Phryne could see Jack from across the foyer. He had slipped out of his suit jacket and was sitting at the end of the settee, closest to the fire. His thick, wavy hair had already started to come undone from its pomade, and Phryne could deduce that this was most likely a result of the hand that Jack had buried there. He was leaning against his hand, an elbow propped on the arm of the settee, and his eyes were closed. 

Trying to not startle him, Phryne gently set herself down on the opposite end of the settee, bringing her feet up on the couch in front of her and balancing her own mug on her knees. Slowly, Jack opened and his eyes and glanced at her.

“Hello,” he said with a smile. He sniffed. “Lovely fire Mr. Butler has going.”

Phryne let out a hum of agreement. “Indeed.” She took a sip of her tea, staring at Jack over the rim of her mug while she did so. As she watched him, a loud sneeze erupted from him, and he caught it just in time in the crook of his arm. “Oh, Jack,” she said sympathetically, reaching for the handkerchief she kept stowed in her brassiere. 

Before she could produce her own handkerchief, Jack had gotten his own and was loudly blowing his nose into it. With a groan, he rolled his head back onto the settee and closed his eyes as he stowed the hankie back inside of his waistcoat pocket. 

“Poor Jack, you’ve caught a cold,” Phryne said.

At this, Jack’s head snapped up and he looked down the settee at her. “No, I haven’t,” he said resolutely.

“Darling…” Phryne trailed off, tilting her head to the side. “You look absolutely awful.”

Jack pursed his lips at this, glancing away and resettling his body against the settee cushions. 

“I’m not sick” he said with a slight pout. “It’s just cold out, and I’m tired.” He took a sip from his mug, and Phryne noted the extra second he took to inhale the steam. 

“Jack.” He looked down at her, his strong jawline set. “There’s nothing wrong with catching a cold.”

“Well, I’ll remember that when I  _ do  _ catch a cold,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to go take a shower, and then go to bed. It’s been a long day.” He started to brush past Phryne, but not before dipping down in front of her to press his lips to the top of her head. “I’ll see you upstairs.” 

Phryne watched him leave the room and slowly ascend the stairs, his hand dragging up the banister as if it were keeping him from falling over. She heard her bedroom door open and Jack’s footsteps above. With a sigh, she heaved herself to her feet and went in search of Mr. Butler.

She found him extinguishing lights in the kitchen, his robe already donned and slippers on his feet.

“Mr. Butler?” she said softly. “Would you be so kind as to hang some of the eucalyptus from the shed in the shower upstairs? And once the inspector is showering, can you change the satin sheets on the bed over to the flannel ones?”

Mr. Butler nodded and said, “Of course, Miss,” before turning on his heel and heading out into the cold towards the shed.

Phryne padded back into the foyer and up the stairs to her bedroom. Jack had left the door propped open, and she was able to slip quietly into the room. Jack was sitting at the foot of the bed, his waistcoat and shirt discarded, wearing only his trousers and an undershirt. His braces hung on either side of his muscular frame, and she could see him holding one of his socks in his hand while the other still sat on his foot.

He was lost in thought, staring at a spot on the floor, and Phryne tried her best to not startle him.

“Jack?” she said quietly. “Are you alright?”

He looked up at her with glassy eyes, the blue in them glittering in the lowlight.

“I’m fine,” he croaked, tucking the sock in his hand into one of his shoes on the floor. He peeled the other off and did the same before standing up to unbutton his trousers. “Just a bit tired.”

Phryne closed the distance between them until she was standing in front of him. She gently pushed his fumbling hands away from the buttons on his trousers and nimbly undid them herself. Jack just let his arms hand defeatedly at his sides as he watched her from under hooded eyes.

“No union suit today?” she asked, running a hand down the muscular ridges of Jack’s bare arm.

“Didn’t think to wear it,” he replied, dropping his trousers and stepping out of them. Phryne bent over to pick them up, folding them over her arm as she straightened herself out. “Regretted it the minute I left my house this morning, but I was running late and didn’t have time to go back in and change.”

“Poor darling,” she murmured, unclipping the braces from the folded fabric in her hands. She placed the slack braces on top of the trousers before bending over again and grabbing Jack’s button down and waistcoat. She brought them over to the chair in front of her vanity, placing them in a neat pile before returning to where Jack was and grabbing his shoes, too. With quiet ease, she slid the brown oxfords underneath the vanity chair before turning back to Jack.

He was now pulling the undershirt off of him, and Phryne couldn’t help admiring the view. The muscles in his back rippled and pulsed as he struggled to get it over his head, and once he emerged from the white fabric, his hair was tousled and wavy. She sighed happily, thinking how lucky she was to have this man all to herself.

And then he sneezed again, and Phryne realized that now was  _ not _ the time to be fantasizing.

Phryne made her way to the hook by her bathtub where she stowed Jack’s thick, navy robe. She held it at arm’s length to him, and he took it with a small smile. Slipping into it, he kept his eyes on her. Phryne noted the dark circles beneath them, and the way they were fighting against sleep.

“Mr. Butler has started a shower for you across the hall. Do you need anything while you’re in there?”

Jack shook his head before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Phryne. She looked up at him with soft concern, and he smiled down at her. “I’m fine, love,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying.”

“You’re worrying. I can tell you’re worrying.”

Phryne pouted at this, looking up at him with as much vehemence as she could muster. It wasn’t much, considering how poorly he looked, and she quickly felt herself melting.

Jack let out a sniffle before turning towards the door. “I’ll be out in a few minutes,” he said.

“I’ll be here.”

Jack disappeared into the hallway, and Phryne heard the door of the bathroom click shut. She let out a sigh of exasperation as she rubbed the back of her neck. Nothing about this was going to be easy, especially since Jack was the most stubborn man she had ever met. He hated to show any kind of weakness, even just a common cold, and if she were going to take care of him, she’d have to trick him into it. There would be no obvious coddling or babying. She would have to make him think he was taking it like a man, when in reality, he would be cuddled and loved on as if he were a puppy.

As the shower creaked and moaned through the walls, Phryne undressed. She slid out of the wool dress she was wearing and stashed her knee-high leather boots in her armoire. After a bit of rummaging, she found a worn pair of pajamas at the bottom of one of her drawers. They were far from sexy, but they were very warm and comfortable. Phryne pulled them on along with her robe before scooping up Jack’s pajamas in her arms.

She padded across the landing to where the bathroom was and softly knocked on the door. She heard Jack’s graveled, “Occupied,” to which she replied, “Jack, it’s me.” Tentatively, she opened the door to be completely engulfed in minty smelling steam. Waving a hand in front of her face, Phryne dropped the pajamas on the toilet seat before pulling back the white shower curtain with one of her fingers.

Jack hadn’t realized she had entered--or was ignoring her--and she watched as he leaned against the tile underneath the spray of water. He had one arm braced against the wall and his head was leaned against it as the hot water poured over his back. She admired the way the rivulets from the shower head snaked along his muscles, falling off of his body in long, stuttering drips. He coughed, his body heaving with the effort, and Phryne had to fight off the urge to hold him.

Slowly, Jack turned his head to where Phryne was standing. The water was running down his face, plastering his hair to his forehead and dripping off of his chin. He had been ignoring her, clearly, because he didn’t startle at the sight of her.

“Can I help you, Miss Fisher?” he said sarcastically, standing a bit more upright and running a hand down his face to try and wipe some of the water away.

“I just brought your pajamas in. Thought you’d want to get dressed in here when you’re finished since it’s warmer than walking across the landing.”

Jack smiled at this.

“Very thoughtful of you,” he said. “I’ll be out in a minute or two.”

“Very well then, Jack. I’ll meet you in the bedroom.” Phryne closed the curtain, exited the bathroom, and passed Mr. Butler on the landing as she headed towards her bedroom.

“Sheets are all changed, Miss,” Mr. Butler said.

“Thank you, Mr. Butler. I’ll see you in the morning,” she replied.   


“My pleasure, Miss. Will the Inspector be staying with us this evening? Shall I press his suit?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Mr. Butler. He won’t be going to work tomorrow.”

At this, Mr. Butler smiled and nodded before heading towards the stairs. “Good night, Miss,” he said as he walked past her, and Phryne returned the sentiment.

While Jack was in the bathroom, Phryne made her way back to the bedroom and picked up the telephone that sat on her vanity. Within a few rings, she heard the night constable at the station pick up. 

“City South, Constable Briggins speaking.”

“Hello, Constable, this is Phryne Fisher. I just wanted to call and let you know that DI Robinson will not be coming in tomorrow. He’s come down with...he has some family business to attend to. I’m calling on his behalf.”

Phryne listened to the constable breathing on the other end before saying, “Very well, Miss Fisher. Hopefully it isn’t anything too serious. I’ll pass the word along.”

“Thank you so much,” she purred before hanging up the phone. 

Just as the phone was placed back on the cradle, Jack walked into the room, wrapped up in his pajamas and robe and rubbing at his hair with a towel. He let out a ferocious sneeze, and Phryne willed herself not to acknowledge it. 

“How was your shower?” she asked, sliding up on the bed and tucking her feet underneath the covers. 

“Bliss,” Jack replied. He hung the towel up on the hook near her tub, along with his robe, and padded over to his side of the bed. Phryne watched as he pulled back the covers, and she noticed his pause at the warm flannel sheets instead of her preferred satin. “Flannel?” 

“It’s chilly tonight, Jack. Don’t want to catch cold.”

He glared at her as she said this, his eyes smoldering from across the bed. Without saying a word, he sat at the edge of the mattress and then swung his legs up and under the covers. She watched as he shimmied down, settling on his side so he was facing her with his head ensconced by his pillow.

“Can you turn out that light? I have to get up early tomorrow morning,” he muttered, punching the pillow underneath his head. 

“No, you don’t,” Phryne said matter-of-factly. 

“What?”

“I called the station and told them that you won’t be in tomorrow.”

Phryne watched as Jack’s face slowly went from pale to purple as he sat up. He was spluttering indignantly and leaning closer and closer to her as he spoke.   


“You did  _ what?  _ Phryne, you had no right! There is  _ no reason  _ for you to have called on my behalf! I  _ will _ be going to the station tomorrow, because there is nothing wrong with me!” 

“Are you quite finished?” Phryne said evenly, folding her hands delicately in front of her. 

Jack clamped his mouth shut as he searched her face. 

“I did  _ not _ tell them about your cold.” Phryne saw the muscle in Jack’s jaw jump, but he kept quiet. “I simply told them you had family business to tend to and that you wouldn’t be in. Constable Briggins was very understanding and said he’d pass the word along.”

Jack had slowly started to relax as she spoke, and by the end of her declaration, the tension in his face had completely drained away. He dragged a hand down his features before flopping back onto the pillow. He coughed loudly into his forearm and let out a groan, and Phryne knew that his resolve had finally cracked. 

“Poor darling,” Phryne murmured. She reached across the space between them and dug her hand into his hair. She scratched circles into his scalp, watching him arch his head into her hand and let out little groans of pleasure. “Come here, Jack,” she said, holding out her arm to him.

Begrudgingly, Jack looked at her out of the side of his eyes before heaving himself into her lap. He draped an arm across her thighs, pillowing his head on her stomach and rubbing his cheek against the fabric of her pajamas.

“Don’t stop,” he muttered, blindly searching for her hand. 

Phryne laughed at this and continued her ministrations. Her one hand luxuriated in the thick softness of Jack’s hair while her other hand gently traveled up and down his spine. He let out a sigh, which developed into a cough, and ended in a pathetic, pitiful groan.

“I think you may be right,” he said into the fabric of her pajamas.

“What’s that?” Phryne said sweetly, tilting her ear towards him.

“I said, I think you may be right.”

“About what, Jack?”

Jack lifted his head to scowl at her. “About...catching a cold,” he said. He dropped his head, picking at a loose thread on Phryne’s pajamas. “I don’t like to be coddled. I don’t like to...to show weakness.” He lifted his eyes to dolefully look at Phryne. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. 

Phryne leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. She held her lips there, allowing them to express the things her words couldn’t. When she pulled away, Jack’s eyes were closed and a soft smile was on his face.

“You’re absolutely infuriating, you know that?” she murmured, cupping his cheek in her hand. 

Jack chuckled at that before leaning forward and kissing Phryne on the tip of her nose. He settled himself back into her lap, giving her waist a squeeze. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Phryne.”

“Oh, Jack, you don’t have to thank me. It’s the least I can do.”

Jack let out a hum of appreciation as Phryne buried her fingers back into his hair. It wasn’t long before his breathing evened out, and Phryne knew he was asleep. She shifted slightly, inching herself down a bit to recline on the pillows behind her. 

The heavy weight of Jack in her lap brought her back to France, where she would comfort wounded soldiers in the middle of the night, rubbing their backs and whispering soothing words into their ears. This was much more preferable to the trenches, although Phryne’s innate need to care for and tend to couldn’t be tamped down. She continued to gently rub Jack’s back and run her fingers through Jack’s hair until her eyes grew heavy and she, too, fell asleep.

If Jack needed her, she would be right there, no questions asked. 


End file.
